Blood Of Gods

CHAPTER 34

Bardiya’s people restlessly slumbered beneath crude tarps while a light drizzle fell from the sky. Their horses, taken from the dead elves and soldiers, whinnied. The horses’ coats were wet and glimmered in the darkness. The air was cold, but at least the winds had died down. Luckily, they were on the crags of eastern Paradise now, and though the rocky terrain was slippery, it was solid. This was preferable to the desert, where the once shifting sands underfoot had become like clay, packed and solid at times and dangerously solvent at others due to the unheard-of rain. On more than one occasion, the people had needed to throw ropes to those trapped in the quagmire as the greedy, drenched sand sucked them into the earth. So far two men and one horse had been lost, disappearing under waves of undulating bog, never to be seen again.

Yet still they soldiered on, traversing the land, now camping a few short miles south of Ashhur’s Bridge.

The rains had come the morning after he ushered his herd, which included those accompanying Ki-Nan, away from the Black Spire and the valley of slaughter beside the ancient relic. It was the first precipitation Bardiya had ever remembered seeing in the desert. He’d assumed it an oddity that would quickly pass, but he’d been wrong. The rains had not let up since, raging for six days strong. What he first took to be an anomaly became a harbinger of doom, a physical manifestation of the god’s disappointment in him. You faltered. You turned your back on what is right.

Three days before, when the people had made camp, Bardiya had sat naked in the rain and gazed across the sopping northern expanse, his legs folded beneath him, his hands clasped in his lap. He’d been trying to find the center he had lost, and that’s when he’d felt him. Karak was there, on the Gods’ Road far on the other side of the soaked terrain, heading for the bridge leading into the Rigon Delta. The fires the deity left behind made the northern expanse glow red. Bardiya had lifted his eyes to the heavens, and he mouthed a thank you to the hidden stars. His rage, which had been his only comfort since he had lost control, began to ebb. Do not leave me, he had demanded, and his conscience obliged. All he need do was picture the seven innocent children standing on the dais as their bodies were hacked to pieces.

Bardiya stood on the edge of a quay, the path leading down uneven and precarious. The flooded vale was behind them, leaving a damp but passable area filled with rolling hills between them and the road. He gazed northeast. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew Ashhur’s Bridge was only another day’s ride away. He turned and looked north at the glowing horizon. They had moved ahead of Karak slightly, picking up speed at Bardiya’s command. Come morning, they would strike out north at a rapid pace and hopefully take the god by surprise. Again his doubt churned. He was running blind into whatever lay ahead. He didn’t know how many soldiers Karak had with him currently, and Bardiya had barely four hundred. The only thing that gave him hope was the fact that the deity was heading away from Mordeina, but whether Karak had been victorious or Ashhur had defeated him, he did not know.

Bardiya would learn which soon enough, once Ki-Nan returned.

A soft, sloshing sound emerged, making him tense; his grip on the great sword tightened. From out of the dark night came three men on horseback, Ki-Nan in their lead. All three were tired yet smiling, holding their shoulders back with pride as they bounced in their saddles. Bardiya nodded to them, and Ki-Nan halted his horse, whispering something to his cohorts. He dismounted, handing the reins to the other two, who would tend to the horses before heading to their sleeping rolls.

Ki-Nan approached the giant, his smile slowly fading the closer he drew. The two old friends shared an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Bardiya turned and loped down the quay, seeking asylum in the small basin of stone below. Whatever the news, he wanted it told out of earshot of his people. Ki-Nan followed him.

“What happened?” Bardiya asked once they reached the floor of the basin. Even though it was only drizzling, water cascaded down the rocks, pooling at his feet. “Did you find the encampment?”

“We did,” answered Ki-Nan. “Karak’s Army sleeps in the forest beyond the Gods’ Road. It was difficult to stay out of sight, what with the fires raging behind them and the elves in their midst, but I think we managed.”

“What shape is the army in?”

“The soldiers back at the Spire said that Karak traveled with fifteen thousand soldiers, but so far as we could tell, there weren’t nearly that many. I would say a third that at most. And many of the men we spotted were in dreadful shape. Injured, hungry, and exhausted.”

Bardiya nodded. “This is good.”

“It is, brother. It is. If the weather improves tomorrow evening, we can sneak up on them while they sleep. Darkness will be our ally.”

“No,” said the giant, shaking his head. “They will have reached Ashhur’s Bridge by the time the sun sets. Whatever we do, we do on the morrow, come daybreak. When I face Karak, it must be in Paradise, not in the delta or Karak’s own kingdom. He cannot be allowed to cross the bridge.”

“But. . are you certain this is your path, brother?” asked Ki-Nan, breathless. “You have little experience with that sword, and fighting a deity is much different from fighting soldiers half your size.”

“Ki-Nan, my decision is made.”

Silence again passed between them, with Ki-Nan averting his gaze as Bardiya stared at him. These silences, and the arguments that preceded them, had become all too common in the weeks before Ki-Nan had left Ang months ago, and were the same way now. Only with the others did Ki-Nan ever seem at ease, never around Bardiya.

The giant sat down cross-legged on the drenched stone. When sitting, he was as tall as Ki-Nan was standing.

“My friend,” he finally said, “what happened to you?”

Ki-Nan’s eyes lifted to meet his. “What do you mean?”

“We were close once,” Bardiya said. “We once could speak of anything. You would regale me with stories of your adventures at sea when you returned from your trips. Only Onna, bless his soul, entertained me nearly as much. Now, you will not so much as smile at me.”

“Times change, brother. The world darkened.”

“Yet not so much that you cannot share a laugh with the others.”

“You don’t understand. Being with you is. . difficult.”

“Why?”

Ki-Nan shifted on his feet, his eyes downcast. “Because of our past. Because of the disagreements between us. You let our people be executed. I pleaded with you to fight; yet you refused. I knew you would never understand until you experienced the pain for yourself. I have always loved Ashhur, brother-how could I not love the god who created me? But I was not willing to suffer needlessly for him.”

They were words Bardiya had heard many times over, but the look of his friend when he spoke them was different. It was as if the atmosphere around him wavered, becoming darker for a barely perceptible moment. Bardiya shook his head, and his vision cleared. Sighing, he said, “And now I have seen, and I have turned against everything I once held dear. I hope you take comfort knowing you were right.”

“You know I don’t.” His friend took a step forward, placing a hand on the giant’s massive shoulder. “How many times have you told us that doing the right thing is rarely easy? I fear that’s where your anger takes us now. The hard path is overcoming our grief and learning how to kill. The hard way is questioning everything we ever knew and believed. Death, though? Death is easy, especially when clothed in honor and vengeance.”

Again the air around Ki-Nan flickered, and Bardiya felt a strange yet undeniable tightening in his gut. Ki-Nan was. . lying. About what, he wasn’t sure, but his friend’s words echoed in his head.

“Learning how to kill. . ”

Bardiya shoved Ki-Nan away. The much smaller man stumbled and almost fell to his knees on the water-drenched stone.

“You lie,” Bardiya said, his deep voice rumbling.

Ki-Nan’s expression turned into a worried frown. “Lie? About what, brother?”

“I watched you on the battlefield. You wielded your blades with precision, cutting down trained soldiers with ease. How could you, and all those who fled from Ang with you, be so adept in the art of warfare?”

“We trained, day and night, for what was ahead,” his friend replied.

This time, Bardiya saw no wavering, but his gut was still knotted. He sucked air into his lungs. Stay in control. So Ki-Nan and his people did train. . but there was more to it. More, hiding in the words.

“How did you know to train?” Bardiya asked. “You lived your whole life in Paradise and never touched a sword until that day on the beach when the elves showed us the cache of steel.”

“We. . we did as best we could,” Ki-Nan insisted. “Our race was. . our race is flawed, brother, built for war. You saw when you held that sword in your own hands! The soldiers you destroyed, the men whose lives you ended. . it came as naturally to you as breathing!”

Again that certainty, cinching and snarling in his gut. “You hide yourself from me,” Bardiya whispered. Sadness swelled within him. “I sense it each time you open your mouth. Have I been blind until now? Have I ever truly known you?”

“Brother,” said Ki-Nan, scrambling to his feet. He held his arms out to Bardiya. “You’re tired, confused. Please, come back to the camp. We can discuss this when we-”

“NO.”

In a single motion, Bardiya snatched his friend by the front of his tunic and slammed him to the ground. Ki-Nan gasped, spittle flying from his lips, the air knocked from his lungs. Bardiya loomed over him, a gigantic fist pressed against Ki-Nan’s chest. His anger was beginning to take hold. It would be so easy. A simple push of my shoulder is all it would take. .

“All lies,” he said instead. “I give you this one last chance, Ki-Nan. If you tell the truth, I will let you live long enough to answer another question. If you lie, you will receive the same fate as those who perished before the Spire. Do you understand?”

Ki-Nan nodded, breathing heavily, his eyes bulging from his skull.

“Good. Now tell me who trained you to wield a sword.”

He removed his fist from Ki-Nan’s chest, and the man began coughing, rolling over onto his side. When his gaze rose to meet Bardiya’s, he was quaking with fear.

“I met them nine years ago,” he said, “during the summer of my twenty-second year.”

“Met whom?”

“Traders from the east, stranded in an ill-built ship by the bluffs surrounding the southern islands. They’d pierced their hull, and I helped save their crew as the ship sank.”

The tightening in his gut released, and his vision was clear, so Bardiya knew this was the truth. He nodded for Ki-Nan to continue.

“The masters of the boat were two fat brothers, Romeo and Cleo Connington. In the aftermath, the two fat men lauded me for my help, but they couldn’t stop staring at me. I don’t think they had ever seen anyone like our people, brother. I intrigued them, they said. We talked for hours on end, and they regaled me with stories of Neldar, and I shared of Paradise. They asked if I wished to experience life outside our humble existence of fishing and hunting and praying.”

“And you said yes.”

“I did.” Ki-Nan was shaking now, rubbing his chest where Bardiya had pressed against him. “I have long been restless, brother. What harm can there be in learning of the world beyond our borders? So they taught me the ways of the east, of money and trade and self-defense. They made me a part of their family, for Ashhur’s sake! They said I was to hold an important place in their house. The men I came to know in the Connington household grew to mean more to me than my eleven brothers and sisters.” Soundless lightning flashed overhead, brightening the night and washing out Ki-Nan’s features. He looked like a living ghost. “To those of the east, I became a man of importance,” he said, “while here at home, I was simply a fisherman.”

Bardiya ran a hand through his sopping hair and looked at Ki-Nan sadly. “Do you really require more than what you have been given by Ashhur?”

“Not all of us were granted leadership and respect at birth, brother.”

“Do not call me ‘brother’ again,” Bardiya snapped. “You are my brother no longer. Now tell me: Your leaving me, our disputes-were those sincere, or were they guided by these Conningtons you speak of?”

“Those. . those were real, broth-. . Bardiya.”

A lie. Bardiya lurched, swinging wide to strike Ki-Nan down. The man shrieked and lifted his hands, a feeble attempt to protect himself.

“I did what I was told!” he shouted.

Bardiya backed down.

“I was supposed to convince you to fight,” Ki-Nan rambled desperately. “But you were so stubborn, so damn stubborn. I delivered those weapons to the coast with the intention of feigning discovery later, but then the elf princess found them first. And still you refused. So I did as I was told and left you alone. . until the time was right.”

Fear seemed to have finally scattered the last of the lies off Ki-Nan’s tongue. A dark thought crossed Bardiya’s mind. “The demon in the Clovis Crestwell guise. . did you know of that? Did you know what the creature had planned?”

At that, Ki-Nan shook his head. “I didn’t. I swear on that which I love more than anything else that I didn’t.”

Again, no lie. The words, however, gave him pause. “What you love more than anything else. . it isn’t Ashhur anymore, is it?”

Ki-Nan hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I. . I fell in love early on, during a trip to Port Lancaster, a city on the southeast coast of Neldar. She was the most exciting woman I’d ever met. Elegant. Exotic. And strong, so strong. I fathered a child by her, though I’ve never seen his face, and she is with my child once again. It is them I wish to return to, whom I wish to build a life with.”

“I see.” Bardiya hung his head and rubbed his eyes. “A woman. Children. Glory and praise. And for these selfish desires, you would betray the god who created you?”

Ki-Nan opened his mouth, then closed it and remained silent.

“I should kill you,” Bardiya said. “You have no place in Paradise any longer. What you have done to me, done to all of us. . is unforgivable.” His hand clenched into a monstrous fist around the hilt of his sword.

“Please, brother, no!” His old friend clambered to his knees before him. “You preached of forgiveness your whole life. Please find a way to give me that. You asked once if my intentions were pure, and they are! Is there anything more pure than love? Than dedicating yourself to a wife, to your children?”

Bardiya lifted his sword. “You speak to the wrong man, Ki-Nan. Ashhur has abandoned me as you have abandoned him. I am his weapon now, nothing more, and what you have done is unforgivable.”

“Ashhur hasn’t abandoned you,” Ki-Nan insisted, eyes widening at the rising sword. “You-you’re strong as ever!”

Bardiya shook his head. “Ashhur robbed me of my youth. I am but an old thing now, my outside rotting as quickly as my faith.”

At that, Ki-Nan cocked his head. “Old?” he asked, his voice still shaking. “How so?”

“Look at me. Look at the wrinkles in my face. Look at the whiteness of my hair. My body aches as it decays. The only act that stifles it now. . is violence.”

“You aren’t making sense,” said Ki-Nan. “You look the same now as you ever have.”

Bardiya started to argue, then realized he saw no lie in the words. He bent over, peering at the darkly shimmering puddle of water that had gathered between his feet. A moment later came another flash of lightning, and for the briefest moment he saw his face. It was old, wrinkled, and ugly.

But in his gut, he felt that knot of certainty.

The image was a lie.

Come the next flash of light, he held his eyes wide open, and there he saw himself, flesh dark and smooth, his hair curly and black as it had ever been. There were no creases around his eyes, no deep grooves in his brow.

The demon. . it showed me what it wanted me to see.

Bardiya looked on the cowering Ki-Nan, and his own words echoed in his mind. Unforgivable. . How many times had he insisted to his people no action went beyond forgiveness? No action could prevent them grace? But here he was, sword high, denying those very words. And still Ashhur was with him. Ashhur was there. . as was the certainty in his gut. The revelation of the lies. Wardens had that power, given to them by Ashhur. Did he now have it as well? But the weight of the blood he’d spilled hung about his neck. The vision he’d seen, the image of himself old and breaking, he’d felt every bit of it. Taking the lives of so many, it wasn’t Ki-Nan he’d seen as unforgivable. It was himself. He’d seethed and raged and declared himself abandoned. . all while Ashhur remained.

He dropped to his knees, releasing the sword in the process and allowing it to clatter away from him. Ki-Nan backed toward the edge of the chasm, the water trickling over the side dripping on his head. Bardiya thought of how hard he’d struggled to be perfect, to stand tall above his people. First Family of his god, wiser than his parents, wiser than Ashhur himself. . he’d thought himself crushed by his own fall from grace, but he was a fool. He was only human. Even with his great height, he’d barely had any distance at all to fall.

Another bolt of lightning struck, and his bones and joints ceased to ache.

“Ki-Nan, my friend, will you forgive me?” he asked.

The frightened man’s eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe him. “Why?”

“Because our ability to forgive, to see the faults in our brothers and sisters and still love them, is all that separates us from the animals that roam the wilds. That was the lesson Ashhur meant to teach, because he knew we would eventually experience the strife we now face. That is the reason he created Paradise-to nurture those aspects of ourselves, to give them a chance to grow before we must rely on them.”

“Even if that’s true,” Ki-Nan said, “you’ve done nothing for me to forgive.”

Bardiya shook his head.

“I declared you my brother no longer, as if my love for you has limits. As if I were a cowardly, bitter, selfish man. Some things cannot be undone, but at least with this, let me try.”

Ki-Nan looked speechless. He took a step forward, and he swallowed down a lump in his throat.

“Even after the lies?” he asked.

To that, Bardiya laughed.

“I have spent the past years lying to myself,” he said. “I certainly won’t condemn you for yours.”

The man paused a moment; then he smiled and wrapped his arms around Bardiya’s neck.

“You’re still a bloody fool,” he said. “But damn it, I’m tired of all the lies and secrecy, and even with all their fat combined, the Conningtons are half the man you are.”

Bardiya rose to his feet, and he felt lighter than air. To think he’d put the weight of Ashhur’s teachings on his shoulders, to think he’d believed himself the only one capable of giving wisdom to his people. But when presented with the need to forgive, forgive others, forgive himself, he’d failed so thoroughly that for the first time in ages he felt he had so much more to learn. Years ago, such a revelation would have horrified him. Not anymore.

“So what should I do?” Ki-Nan asked, stirring Bardiya from his thoughts.

Bardiya put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“This woman you love, these children of yours, you should go to them,” he said. “But only after you do whatever you can to ensure their safety. I think you owe them, and Ashhur, at least that much.”

Ki-Nan hesitated a moment.

“And if I die before seeing them again?”

“Every breath may be our last, be it in war or in the most peaceful of days. Make each breath matter. Give each one meaning. Who are you, Ki-Nan? Who is the man beneath it all? Are you one who would flee to his family and pray from afar you’ll be safe? Or are you a man who will fight to make it come to be?”

There was no question, not when put that way. Ki-Nan struck his chest with a fist, a gleam entering his eye.

“I’m a man who will fight.”

By the time they exited the basin, the drizzle had stopped, and dawn began to stretch its crimson fingers across the cloud-filled sky. The warriors of Ker were already awake, shuffling about their temporary camp, stretching their sore backs and moaning. Small cookfires were flaring, and the smoke from the damp wood filled the air. Bardiya gathered them all together, nearly four hundred warriors who had never known conflict until less than a week ago.

“Brothers!” the giant proclaimed, and his voice carried over the rocky cliffs. He pointed north. “Beyond those hills lies a scourge that wishes to rip from us the very love that each of us has felt for all our lives. We must not allow that to happen! Karak is out there, brothers, and he is running. Ashhur has already proven to be his better. It is now for us to finish the task our creator started.”

The crowd before him began to murmur.

“Will we face them alone?” someone asked. It sounded like Tuan Littlefoot.

“Alone?” Bardiya shouted. “We will stand between the eastern god and passage into his kingdom, but not alone. We will face his forces to preserve our way of life, but not alone. We will ensure none of our loved ones will ever suffer such blight again, and when we do, we will not be alone. We may die. Every last one of us. But we will not die alone. We have truth on our side. We have love! And should our pure hearts cease beating, we will find splendor in the Golden Forever. This is what Ashhur has promised you. This is what he has guaranteed!”

The murmuring grew in volume, but the people seemed hesitant. Ki-Nan then stepped to the foreground and faced his brethren.

“Come now, my brothers!” he bellowed. “You have tasted battle before, and you won! Onward we march! For glory! For freedom! For Ashhur!”

“For Ashhur!” the throng shouted in reply, and though it was slightly less than enthusiastic, Bardiya knew that was the most he could hope for given the certain death they faced. They’d march needing a miracle, but it seemed they walked in an age of miracles, and for once Bardiya felt free from the doubts that had dug their claws into his heart so deeply.